


Muddy Soles

by ladyflamingo



Series: Wild Horses [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU where Henry meets Drizella first, F/M, Set before the the Cinderella storyline, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflamingo/pseuds/ladyflamingo
Summary: Drizella has grown sicker and weaker with each coming day. On one night she walks alone, barefoot and cold on a dirt road, she's certain and glad that the trip she so often takes at night will be her last. Unfortunately, she encounters a hero.





	Muddy Soles

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I skipped season 6. Maybe season 5 too, because I thought it was getting extra and lame, but when I found out the premise for season 7, I hopped back on because Henry is my fave. So, I'm not sure if everyone's super in character, but it's fan fiction and I tried. And, like always, I'm rooting for the villain who's roots are a sad past and troubled childhood and neglect, etc. I don't know why, but Ella and Henry just don't do it for me. I always go with the bad girl.

Drizella was walking down the road, as she often did. Not many carriages came by at night looking for a girl out of her home, hair long and out of its braid, looking up and down the road, daring herself to enter the forest, but not nearly brave enough. She was dressed in her underthings, an almost sheer dress, barely a nightgown—because her silk nightdress or her beautiful day dresses would get mud on their skirts and slippers. Sometimes she went barefoot, like tonight. It was easier to go home before sunrise, wash her clothing, and place it in front of the fire to dry. She felt soulless, and heartless, like like the creatures Anastasia used to tell in the forts of soft sheets and lush pillows, with their shadowy skin and their large, glowing yellow eyes. The ones that had her and Ella laughing in delight, rather than afraid.

She smiled fondly at the memory, but only faintly, as if she couldn’t quite get there. Lately, she’d been tired, everyday her energy a bit more sapped, her body a bit colder, her heartbeat a little slower. Her mother had her bedridden with a wave of her hand, but freedom called if not for one night. However, as she dragged her feet through the dirt roads, moving slower and slower, she thought, or realized, that this night must certainly be her last. That one of the King’s men, or a merchant, or even a passerby would find her, in her white dress, pale, blue-lipped, and laying on the ground, cold.

And as she thought it, it happened. And a smile crossed her face. No more Mother. No more Misery. Her vision warped and darkened, her balance was off, and for some reason she heard a roaring like a beast in the distance. She was gone before she hit the ground.

“I need you to hold on,” he said urgently, “You have to hold on tight.”

She wasn’t dead.

“Yeah, but if you don’t hold on to be you will be!” he insisted, almost frantic.

Alright. That’s good.

“…what?” he replied incredulously, almost comically.

—

She woke up, head pounding, body a heavy long but also quite floaty, in a place that wasn’t her bed. It was an inn. And her wet clothes had been replaced by a long, warm cloak, and a pile of blankets on top. She was so _warm_. Warmer than she had been in a long time. It was nice.

“I didn’t know death would be so warm and comfortable,” Drizella commented absently.

“Uh…That’s because you’re not dead,” said the same voice from before.

She jumped, and pulled the heavy cloak and blanket over her nude frame.

He was of average height, dressed in what looked like a leather doublet, hair short and careless.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t undress you, my mom did—“ he stepped out into the hallway, “Moms! She’s awake.”

Drizella didn’t know what to do when two women, both of whom frankly looked like the antithesis of the other, walked in with extremely strange clothing on. So, she did what she was taught to do. The only she could do when vulnerable. She acted like her mother.

As viciously as she could in her weak state, she still managed, “Do you swine even know who I am? I am Lady Tremaine’s beloved daughter. When she realizes I’m not home, she’ll send the King’s guards for your heads to put on pikes to roast in the sun so they can be fed to our dogs.”

There was a long pause.

“Wow,” the blonde said, a bit amused.

“Yeah, that was a lot,” said the young man, “As I writer, I’m impressed, but as a…person…I’m…uncomfortable.”

The other woman, dark-haired, pretty in a stern manner, hands on her hips, “Hm. That’s cute.”

Drizella frowned. She couldn’t never be as scary as mother. No one would ever fear her.

The woman continued, “Our son told me you were walking in the middle of the road, and if he hadn’t been passing by and called us, you’d be dead.”

Before she could even think of a reply that was appropriate, Drizella was already saying, “So?”

They were all startled by her answer, and even though Drizella herself should be, she wasn’t. She didn’t care, either way. About anything. She didn’t feel anything.

They must’ve seen her contemplating to herself, the blank stare that said nothing to the strangers in front of her. She looked at the young man, who stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m Henry,” he said kindly, smile warm and promising, “These are my moms—Regina and Emma.”

There was a kindness in the man’s eyes that she hadn’t seen in anyone’s eyes in…years. She looked around her, the warm blankets, the fire, there was even a small meal at the table. Drizella looked at all of them in turn. “My name is Drizella Tremaine,” she replied robotically, “Henry?”

He placed his hand over her’s, “Yes?”

She paused, looking at their hands and then into his brown eyes, “What’s wrong with me?”

Henry gave her a smile, this one was bright and easy, “I don’t know. But we’re going to find out, and we’re going to heal you.”

“Why? Do you want something, money or—“

He laughed a little, “No, no. We’re going to because—“ he turned and looked at the blonde woman, who was giving him a look her mother had never given her, “Because that’s what heroes do.”

To her that sounded ridiculous. But alright.

—

Having her heart pulled from her chest wasn’t painful per-se. It was like getting too much air in your lungs, going outside on her balcony when she was trying desperately to hide her tears and gulping deep, icy breaths. It also made her a bit dizzy.

And seeing her heart was—well, If she could call it a heart.

Henry was outside, and only Regina and Emma were in the room. It had been a whole day and she’d managed not to be found by her mother. Perhaps she didn’t care.

The thing they took from the inside of her chest was mostly dark, dry and cracked, like old stone. There were pieces here and there that were bright, brilliant, jewel-red. But most of it was—

“Dead,” Regina said grimly.

“How does that even happen?” Emma asked, looking over Regina’s shoulder.

Regina shook her head, “All I can guess is someone is trying to steal her heart. But—“

“—Piece by piece so no one suspects them,” Emma finished quickly, “Who would do this to you? Got any enemies? Your family got any enemies?”

Drizella cocked her head her stare still empty, “My mother has many enemies. But they’re afraid of her.”

Regina raised a perfect, dark eyebrow, “It’s clever. Powerful magic.”

“Can you fix it?” Drizella said.

Regina looked over her shoulder at Emma. “You ready to do some magic?”

—

It sounded simple, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. She cried and convulsed on the bed. Regina’s dark purple swirls weaved though her chest, looking for a connection to break, Emma was trying to repair the damage, but attacking it only made it worse. They’d been working through the night, afraid that she wouldn’t be alive to see the sun rise.

“Let me die,” Drizella said sweating and speaking weak, “Just let me die. I’ll be with father, and I’ll be with Anastasia,” she rambled And her real mother. Her real mother that died that birthday. The one she missed so terribly.

There was a pause, just for a second, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she thought, _sweet surrender_ until she was jostled into someone’s arms. Drizella turned her head and looked at Henry, who was seated behind her, letting her whole body rest against him. He’d taken off his leather doublet, and she could feel his warmth through his shirt, holding her in his strong arms, “Okay,” he told her with a confident smile, “Let’s do this,” he brushed a sweaty tendril of hair from her forehead.

They started again, working their magic through her body, Emma’s soothing and Regina’s like slowly taking out stitches. But it wasn’t working.

“Drizella.”

She lolled her head back and looked at him.

He had beads of sweat on his forehead too, was holding her limp hand firmly.

“You have to believe. That’s the only way this will work. Belief. It’s one of the strongest things in the universe, stronger than magic.” Henry said this with not doubt, and she started to believe him, “There’s so much you haven’t done.”

And this, he said with such conviction, such strength, “Right now, you feel like life isn’t worth living because someone is trying to steal that life from you. And they don’t have the right to do that. Your story isn’t over yet. You haven’t had your happy ending. And you will, I promise, _but you need to fight for it,”_ that it brought tears to the brim of her eyes, and the pain started to recede.

A happy ending. To all the misery her mother had brought on her. Something good. A happy ending, he’d said. She could move past the misery and the pain and treating her step-sister horribly just to please a woman who would never love her. She could be free. And she could be happy. And unafraid.

She was still staring into Henry’s eyes when she felt it work. When she felt the feeling rush fast through her formerly numb limps, her cheeks heat, her tear spill, and an inhale of breath that was so large and sweet and filled with life. When her heart pounded, strong. And for the first time in several months, she smiled. And Henry smiled back.

—

Emma was leaving, but Regina was staying. Her story wasn’t over yet. Just like Drizella’s.

“Can’t believe she’s pregnant,” Henry said with a wild smile.

“Hopefully it doesn’t come out with a hook,” Regina said dryly. They both laughed, but Drizella had no idea why that was funny.

She looked down the road, to where her home was, imaging her mother’s anger when she showed up, hair loose and in breeches.

“Thinking of going home?” Regina asked, arms crossed in an outfit that didn’t make her seem like she was a different land. ‘Storybrooke’, they said.

Drizella looked at her, and then back at the road, “The only person in this whole kingdom that hates me enough to poison my heart is my mother. I just don’t know why she would.” She didn’t have to turn around to know their expressions, “To hell with that, and to her.”

Regina chuckled, and Drizella turned around and looked at Henry with a smirk. Taking in the sight of him leaning against his dark, powerful horse, handsome and kind. This time, when she rode with him, she would strong enough to hold him around the middle and lean her head against his back. Or maybe she’d ride it herself.

“So. What’s next, hero?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, if this wasn't obvious, Lady Tremaine was using powerful magic to siphon Drizella's heart/life into Anastasia. Because she's a bitch. Also, yes, that was a KH reference.


End file.
